DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. 'Sides, you'd get more blood out of a turnip then you would money out of me! HA!
AUTHORS NOTE: I SOOOOOOO love HP/DM slash! So I wrote one. Enjoy.
SUMMARY: Harry feels like he's in hell, Draco's living through a nightmare. Can they help each other before it's too late to save either one?
Tainting the Innocent
Chapter One
WHAM! A buxom red-head ran straight into Draco while trying to escape a magic duel that had sprung up over one of the leather couches. Glancing over her bare shoulder, she was quite glad to see who she had bumped into.
"Hey ya handsome," she slurred drunkenly. She threw her arms around his neck and plastered her generous figure against him. "Wanna ride?" She asked this while grinding her hips against Draco's, a decent attempt at a lecherous smile twisting her face. Draco dropped his hands to her waist, pulling her closer for just a moment. She WAS quite attractive, a fourth year if he wasn't mistaken, and he was sorely tempted. It was not to be, however, so he regretfully slid his hands up to her wrists, disengaged her hold on his neck, and gently shook his head with a wry grin.
"Maybe later, darling, but right now I have business to attend to." He sidestepped the pouting fourth year and went to continue his trek across the Slytherin common room. Pansy Parkinson was his next human obstacle.
"Drrraaaacoooo," she whined, latching onto his arm. "You never want to play with us anymore. This is a smashing party and you want to work! What could possibly be that important?"
Draco glanced around the richly appointed common room before answering her. Everywhere he looked his housemates were chugging various forms of alcohol, gorging themselves on food filched from the house elves, or contorting into a multitude of compromising positions. With and without their clothing. He didn't see a "smashing party" as Pansy put it, he saw children desperately playing at hedonism before facing a dreaded future. Many of their parents served the Dark Lord and they were expected to follow that same path. Few wished to, however, since the hatred that fueled their elders seemed a distant thing. While none of them liked muggles, they were inferior creatures after all, none of those pathetic things had done harm to the magical community for centuries. It seemed pointless, to Draco at least, to go about destroying people who would be well suited to serving their betters.
Despite what he has repeatedly said to Granger, simply done to enrage her male companions, he really saw no problem with half bloods and muggle borns. The pure-bloods were dying out, especially with this war in full swing and pure-bloods being killed by the handfuls. Production could not keep up with consumption, as it were. If the wizarding world was to continue, then these people were necessary.
He was brought back to reality when Pansy tugged his arm. She did not appreciate being ignored for so long. He turned his most charming smile on the well meaning busy-body and purred his response. "Why, Pansy, darling, I wouldn't call it "work" exactly," he said with a manly chuckle and a wink. Pansy's mouth formed a perfect "O" of surprise, and then her face turned sly.
"Why you naughty little boy! You're shagging someone from another house, aren't you!" She didn't even wait for his response before charging on. "Ooooh, Drrraaaacoooo, who is it? You must tell me!"
Happy that his ploy worked as planed, he adopted an expression of wide eyed innocence. "Pansy, love, what ever gave you that idea? Besides, even if it were true, a Malfoy does not kiss and tell. It wouldn't be seemly." With that, he placed a kiss on her pug nose and loped away with a whistle on his lips.
Being a Slytherin did not mean that he naturally favored the wet cold of the dungeons; he was chilled and miserable despite the thick cloak wrapped around his shoulders. Walking through these labyrinthine passages was always confusing, no matter that he has had years of practice. Grumbling to himself about stupid letters and interfering gits, he walked on.
Yesterday, during the breakfast post, he had received a missive from an owl he did not recognize. The letter tied to its leg spoke of sharing urgent news with him, and demanded that he meet this mysterious person tonight in an unused classroom. The first thought to run through his conceited mind was that this was a love-struck schoolmate trying to get him alone and into his pants. To his credit, it did tend to happen a lot. Just for a lark, he decided to go along with things; maybe this secret admirer was breathtakingly beautiful. Now, though, he was beginning to dislike the idea vehemently. The fact that his family had many enemies and that he should always be on guard for kidnapping attempts had been drilled into his head since he'd worn nappies. What if this was a radical who had decided to eliminate the offspring of powerful Death Eaters, despite said offsprings' own political leanings?
A troublesome thought flickered across his mind: Could Dumbledore protect him from such an attack? Even more disturbing: Would he even try? His father had constantly plotted to get the old coot sacked, and was one of the Dark Lord's most trusted followers. Draco himself had never been all puppies and sunshine where the headmaster was concerned, and it was widely suspected that he was to follow his father's example.
He had arrived at the ironclad door while lost in thought. Staring straight ahead, he realized he had a dilemma. Go in and either get laid or be attacked and brutally murdered. Obviously, the second was not as appealing. Palming his wand just in case, Draco breathed deeply to settle his nerves and knocked. Dumbledore opened the door. Eww, Draco thought with a shudder. Please let him want to kill me!
